


Remember This

by Xie



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:03:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xie/pseuds/Xie
Summary: Brian always loved New York





	Remember This

  
Author's notes: The first time Brian visited Justin in New York.  


* * *

Ted was standing by my desk, pen and stack of permits to re-build the club in his hand. I gestured to him to put them on the desk while I assured Leo Brown that the new line of women's athletic wear would be well-represented by the six-foot tall African-American tennis player we'd signed for the ads.

"She's the perfect model for the new 'Amazon line'," I said in my most persuasive voice while signing each document where Ted's finger indicated. Cynthia was standing in the doorway, my coat over her arm, looking pointedly at her watch. "You can trust me, Leo. When have I ever steered you wrong?"

He sputtered out after offering one or two minor incidents of otherwise flawlessly executed campaigns, and I finished signing the last piece of paper Ted was shoving at me as Cynthia practically bundled me into my coat.

"I'm not fucking five years old. I can dress myself," I told her as I grabbed my scarf from her hand and threw it around my neck, glaring.

She rolled her eyes. "Please. The car is waiting. Go."

They stood watching me like proud parents whose oldest child is going off to his first prom. I got in the car and told the driver to take me to the airport, pointedly not looking back at them. I didn't ask about my flight. I knew Cynthia and Ted had checked it online, and if I wasn't mistaken… I checked my Blackberry, and I wasn't; Cynthia had programmed it to give me flight departure delays updates.

I almost laughed, but just looked out the window at the wet streets, and the glow from the streetlights split into a thousand pieces by the rain.

The storm got bigger before it died away, and my flight was delayed. We took off over an hour late, but when I walked out of security, there he was.

I'd told him not to come all the way to the airport, but giving instructions to Justin had always been completely pointless. He did what he wanted. I should be used to it by now.

I stood in front of him, and let my bag slide to the floor. He went up on his toes and kissed me, in front of the scandalized out-of-towners and the bored New Yorkers, the guy with the sign that said "Brian Kinney" waiting to drive me into Manhattan, and the goth girl with the pierced eyebrow who'd sat across the aisle from me on the plane.

He finally broke the kiss – and it was him, not me – and grinned at me. I had both my hands in his hair, and he had one on the back of my neck. I wouldn't really have minded spending the whole weekend making out with him at JFK, but the car was waiting, and presumably his apartment, while undoubtedly uncomfortable and even unsanitary in the extreme, had something enough like a bed that I could fuck him until we both passed out.

We held hands in the car. He kept smiling at me, and I kept shaking my head, then turning away to look out the window so he wouldn't see my smile. And then I'd turn back so he would, and he'd laugh and squeeze my hand, and I tried to remember why I didn't want him to come to the airport.

"I haven't finished unpacking," he said, and tugged me up the stairs.

I was following him up. "What's a few boxes?"

He laughed and opened a door on the second floor. It reminded me of Daphne's place, but smaller. His unknown roommates had decorated the tiny living room in the same chic bedspread-over-furniture, orange crate bookshelf décor. But I didn't really stop and look at it, just let him pull me past a kitchen smaller than my shower at the loft into his bedroom.

He'd exaggerated its state of disarray. There was a bed, there was a light next to the bed, and there was a very frantic, horny, naked blond guy tearing off my clothes.

I'd always liked New York.

The last time we'd fucked was just before he left. It was a memory I almost never let surface. Now and then it floated into my mind, when I was in a haze of booze or on the edge of sleep. It was mostly just fragments of images without any sound – his face, wet with sweat and with tears, my hand gripping his while I fucked him, his lips wrapped around my cock, my fingers tangled in his hair.

This time was nothing like that. I laughed while Justin dove for my cock, falling back on the bed while his hands dragged my pants off and shoved them onto the floor. His teeth scraped me, and I protested, but he just pulled off for a second and grinned up at me.

I lay back and just let him do it. He swallowed me down, using his fist on my cock and his fingers in my ass, until I was bucking up off the mattress and five seconds from coming.

Then he stopped, and gave me that shit-eating grin again, a condom miraculously appearing in his hand while he bit the wrapper open with his teeth.

He rolled the condom onto my cock, and just that touch was almost too much. He slapped lightly at my thigh. "Stop that. I have plans."

I obligingly thought about the new Brown Athletics campaign, the sports bras and women's thongs, and felt my orgasm recede long enough for Justin to settle himself on my cock. Then I made the mistake of really looking at him, flushed, lip caught in his teeth, his cock straining up and dripping.

I shut my eyes and groaned, and felt his ass constrict around me when he laughed. He rode me for a second, and I tried to hold back, to make it last. I was losing the battle, so I surged up, wrapping my arm around his waist and flipping him over.

My cock pulled out of his ass and he gasped a little, but he got his up onto his knees, my dick back against his hole, almost before I was done turning him. I slid inside with one thrust, and it was so fucking tight, so slick, I had to bite on the inside of my mouth to keep from yelling.

He'd reached back and pulled me in deeper, and I rode it as long as I could before sliding my hand off his hip and onto his cock. It was hard, and it moved in my hand when I touched it. I slicked his pre-come down the shaft, and he growled my name, his hand slapping at my thigh. I gave up fighting and waiting and let myself come, bursts of heat that went on for what felt like an hour, while he flooded all over my hand and his bed underneath me.

Some time later, I have no fucking idea how long, I was lying across his back in a stupor, my dick half-soft and still inside him. I reached down and carefully pulled out, holding onto the condom. I heard music and realized his roommates must have come home.

Justin didn't move, and I tossed the condom onto the floor. He murmured when I lay down next to him, and I threw my leg over his.

It took me a minute to get my voice to work. "Explain why we didn't go to a hotel again?"

He smiled, and gently kicked at me with his foot. "Because I want to remember you here on the long, cold winter nights between your visits."

I nibbled at the skin behind his ear. "I have some nice memories of a New York hotel room, you know."

He laughed, but it was muffled in the pillow. "You didn't think so at the time. I seem to recall being forced into many months of indentured servitude at the diner as a penance."

I smacked his ass. "Penance? Restitution. I should have had you arrested."

Justin turned over, one arm thrown back and the other looping around my neck. "It was more fun to punish me."

I smiled, and traced his lower lip with my finger. "Possibly."

He bit it. "Next time we can stay at a hotel."

I buried my face in his neck. "Good. Because wouldn’t room service be great right about now?"

He patted my shoulder. "We can send out for pizza."

I made a negative sound into the side of his neck.

"You can eat my ass."

I lifted my head, and smiled at him.


End file.
